A Rare Treat; a few pics from a day in Greenwich.

Today was spent browsing the tables of Greenwich Market, holding my bag tightly against my body don't get your purse out and I managed to stay strong as I passed a barometer which I simply knew Peter would have loved.....ahem. I restrained myself, and spent £1 on a Leonard Cohen book of poetry, £1 on a beautiful scarf and £3 on a plate I could not resist. We  (sister- Sifa & friend- Hessel) ventured into "Hola Paella" whilst waiting for the vintage shop 360 deg to open where we warmed up with hot chocolates and a plate of cheese and salad, in such a beautiful atmosphere.

Greenwich truly never fails, I knew this as I lugged home my booty. As soon as I got in, I cooked up a cup of warm spiced apple juice which Hessel taught me to make and sat down to write up a review. You see, it really is the small things that make one happy. I've experience utter upheaval this week and I look forward to a little more settled down week next week when I return to writing the book. In the meanwhile, here are a few pics from today.




Hessel &Sifa

 

In Hola Paella; hundreds of jars of yumminess to buy, we decided we wanted the shelving- if only!

Warming decor

Paella being cooked at the front of the shop

Cheese Platter; that's the last time I'm trying mouldy cheese- thank you Hessel... I can still taste it! The rest was delicious though

My finds in the market

How does one go about attaching as hook to the back? I'm thinking of hanging it on the wall, not here though, in the next flat

Delicious spiced apple, recipe will follow

Hessel's yummy spicy apple juice;

1 carton of apple juice
a few cloves
cardamon
cinnamon stick
a slice of lemon peal
a chunk of ginger- bashed
a sprinkle of fennel seeds
a dash of nutmeg
a sprinkle of black pepper

And boil until everything has infused wonderfully, releasing a warming smell and serve up!

Review for New Books magazine- This Beautiful Life by Helen Schulman

Review for New Books Magazine

Sussex; a year on

I was meant to write this post a month or so ago, but you know how life is; it swallows you and takes over once more, but here it is. A few pics from Sussex; where Mr C and I cycled for miles along the Cuckoo trail and through sweet welcoming towns between Hailsham and Pevensey Bay. We walked, talked, laughed, smiled, cooked and planned.

It was our first year wedding anniversary (Sussex last yr) and we were just as thankful, maybe even more so as Mr C took me once more on my yearly homage to Virginia Woolf's Monk's house, this time on the beautiful river walk from Lewes to her home in Rodmell where we happened upon a field of sweet corn,

"shall we take one?"

"we can't!"

"Of course we can't, we're trusted to walk through these fields without succumbing to theft"

that evening

"we should have taken one"

We were just as hopeful, a year on and 10 yrs down that line, for it had been a hard year, with illness, mice and noisy neighbours, but we'd always laugh. Laughing is what saves you, this was what I deduced, laughter and having the right person beside you to do it with. But I shan't get all emotional and wibbly-wobbly. We're just thankful. Always, terribly thankful.

And I did get used to the name change after all (name fretting)



Flowers from Mr C the night before we left, I was so worried they wouldn't keep, but they did!



The view from the couch, watching torrents of blue tit,s great tits and others visit daily made me smile, it's what made me invest in my own bird feeder the first time we were there



Mr C standing at our front door; we loved hanging out of it in the mornings and evenings gazing at the stars which we noted to be brighter and dotted in an abundant array of beauty.

Pevensey Bay, note Mr C's beautiful yellow socks; we sat and ate sandwiches he had made earlier as they say

Mr C sitting with bikes while I snap some pics, I want to take a few for my sister so she can use them for paintings.

Becoming utterly mesmerised by the waves and having a moment where I realise how might nature it... I completely soaked, and therefore found myself drying my socks in the ladies' and when the ladies' began to fill with onlookers, I thrust them in to Mr C's hands and begged him to continue drying them in the men's, which he did. He is one of the good guys, he knows the future will be filled with many more moments such as this. 10 mins later, we were soaked on the cycle back, but my socks remained dry.

Glorious river walk from Lewes to Rodmell to see Monk's House. We had to catch the 7 :55 am bus, which ran late, but nonetheless, we had ample time to enjoy every moment of that sunny day.

Standing in front of Virginia Woolf's mirror

Putting a leaf from outside V W's bedroom into my notebook

V W's writing lodge and are those apples' I see?



Our hosts grew their own veg which they shared with us, thank you for such wonderful advice David

 

Lucy & Otter at our door as we cook

 





Our Host's dog Lucy, she was a lovely companion



Mr C's Tea & my hot chocolate (some things never change!) with a view of pigs and chickens!





Fruit from VW's garden (was turned into crumble)



Charity shop finds, Mr C thought Murder Farm would suit the setting...







Change. How do you deal with it?

It's been one of those days where every emotion under the sun has been experienced; a day of glorious autumn sunlight and refreshing cold. A day of catching up with a friend, tea and haberdashery. A day of work (dog walking) with my sister and her best friend (adopted brother) and a day of change lurking in its midst. A change that I have anticipated and now must continue. 

Noisette, the puppy I've looked after since 7 wks old, she was born on my wedding day!

                                          Beautiful Autumnal colours in Dulwich Park

                                                      My sister & her best friend

                                                  The back of me snapped by my sister

Such a thoughtful and feeling packed day makes you remember the tapestry that is life and be thankful for the ones that carry you through it, the ones that run through your seams of  life. Always be thankful and take a few steps back to see everything a little more clearly and for what it really is. That is what I am doing this evening, and it's what I will do with Mr C and my sister & co



Article- Virginia Woolf by Alexandra Harris

Literature

Virginia Woolf by Alexandra Harris

There is an entire shelf in my bookcase dedicated to Virginia Woolf; her novels, her diaries and biographies so it is hardly surprising that I became intrigued by a new biography. What new light can possibly be shed upon one of the most scrutinised literary figures? Do I not know all that needs to be known? Such questions fluttered haphazardly in my head before I even cracked the book’s spine. It’s also terribly important to take heed when approaching a biography; one must question the writer’s motive, background and avoid a sensationalist account at all cost.


Once it was clear that the writer, Harris, was an English lecturer at the University of Liverpool, a Woolf scholar, a teacher of modernist and American literature and so forth, I plunged in further. From the offset, still taking small steps with caution I might add, Harris talks about the many biographies written about Woolf, from Hermione Lee to Quentin Bell and states that her own approach to Woolf and this book is a “…first port of call for those new to Woolf and as an enticement to read more...” and for those that know her works and life, she hopes it will “…set off a few fresh ideas.” This is in fact what she has certainly achieved. If the reader does in fact know a great deal of Woolf’s life and her writings thoroughly then this book will only act as a form of “recap”.

Harris offers up a brief history of Woolf’s life and how her novels mirrored her constant restyling of thought and this in itself is rather refreshing. She impart ‘s quite a few interesting ideas, some that were somewhat new and refreshing yet there was a niggling sense and desire for her to chip the surface just a little more, even if it was to reveal yet another layer. It is true, there is only so much that one can put in a 170 page book made up of 46 illustrations, but the human mind yearns for more.

Harris brushes upon the obsession with Woolf’s life, she writes, “The appearance of completeness has been one of the seductions for readers of Woolf, and one of the dangers…Whatever else emerges from the depths of archives and desk drawers…there will be no finished picture of Virginia Woolf.” It is within the last few pages that Harris offers what could be considered as a critical study and a sharp one it is and not only that, she is poetic and full of deep feeling, leaving the reader with an ache in their chest and a sting in the throat, a true melancholic thrust in the ribs. The true magic in this book lays in this sentence, “Virginia Woolf has a habit of changing shape to stay alive,” which is why, most of us will continue seeking out other works on Woolf, for she is very much alive and can never be too sure how or where she will reappear.

 Published by Thames & Hudson


(published in Avrupa)

©Zehra Cranmer

Reading on the side.... shhhhhh

A little reading on the side, to keep my mind fluttering and bounding along




 

a beautiful orchid from the husband to keep a smile on my face

And now back to work.

Article- The Tiger's Wife by Téa Obreht

Literature │A Folklore Tapestry

The Tiger’s Wife by Téa Obreht

Téa Obreht’s The Tiger’s Wife published this year was the winner of the Orange Prize for Fiction. Usually more accustomed to the art of short story writing, Obreht found herself tackling the novel form and to her surprise, this lucrative choice was a mighty, and pardon the pun- roaring success. Obreht who was born in the former Yugoslavia found herself living in Cyprus during the time of war, then Egypt and finally in America where she established herself as a writer of short stories and now, a novelist.

The Tiger’s Wife begins with Natalia receiving a phone call from her grandmother bearing the news of her grandfather’s death, a tune that rang true to Obreht’s own life, for she too had lost a grandfather whom she was incredibly close to and in more than one way, this book appears to be a way of dealing with her own grief. When Natalia receives the call, she doesn’t break down but remains somewhat cool and meditative; this calmness arouses suspicion in her grandmother. Natalia’s grandfather was not only someone who she loved deeply but most importantly, was a companion. They had their own language, a thought and feeling appeared to be conveyed in a way that nobody else could interpret.

The setting is an unnamed country in the Balkans and Natalia tells her grandfather’s story; about his home town and the stories of those that inhabited it. The reader is placed in a state of constant movement through a well crafted labyrinth. Through numerous myth and folklore imitations involving supernatural-like beings and extraordinary events one discovers they are in fact reading a novel in the magical realism form. There is the story of the deathless man, the Bear man, and the soft romantic hearted musician who becomes an abusive butcher. Many of these characters according to Obreht are taken from reading old folk tales which she had incorporated into short stories. It’s feasible to say that this piece of fiction is a marriage between the novel and short story form, woven into a beautiful tapestry taken from an archaic time which belongs to the Balkans and its people.

Although The Tiger’s Wife overflows with compelling narration from a far away land, a void does exist- there is a blankness of some sort where emotion should fill, but that can be said to be the only flaw.


(published in Avrupa)

©Zehra Cranmer



Happy When Hard at Work

I'm truly my happiest when my brain is buzzing; copious amounts of reading always do it for me, even to the point where my eyes and head ache and the husband demands that I put the book down because I have begun to squint or worst, "please turn that light off" when he's trying to sleep. Keep it moving, keep it swimming, leaping and singing, and most importantly, re-fuel so you can keep going. Happy Monday people, may your endeavours be fruitful.

Article- The Hours by Michael Cunningham

Literature │The Double Baked Novel

The Hours by Michael Cunningham

By Zehra Cranmer

“Am I writing The Hours from deep emotion? Of course the mad part tries me so much… The design is certainly original and interests me hugely.” These separate entries taken from Virginia Woolf’s diary, written in 1923, depict her thoughts on her writing process of The Hours which she later renamed Mrs Dalloway published in 1925. Cunningham in 1999 took more than the concept of Mrs Dalloway and the life of Virginia Woolf and reworked it into a novel The Hours. Why did it take a Woolf fan like myself so very long to read this, one might wonder? The answer to this reluctance and obvious act of avoidance is probably due some form of loyalty towards Woolf.
When Woolf set about to write Mrs Dalloway she wanted to create something new and break away from what she had done before, yet when Cunningham set out to write The Hours, his reworking of the old story is just that, an imitation with creative license and a modernisation of the classic. The story focuses on three main narratives which are under the titles; Mrs Woolf, Mrs Dalloway and Mrs Brown. Mrs Woolf’s narrative focuses on the writer’s mind and thoughts during the time she was writing Mrs Dalloway, whilst Mrs Brown (during the 1950’s) is pregnant with her second child, always trying to be the perfect host and wife has begun reading Mrs Dalloway whilst Clarissa Vaughan plays out the very role of Mrs Dalloway.

In 1922, Virginia Woolf wrote in her diary “Mrs Dalloway has branched into a book; and I adumbrate here a study of insanity and suicide; the world seen by the sane and the insane side by side- something like that.” These themes ran through Mrs Dalloway and again in The Hours, Cunningham remained true to these essential themes as well as pressures instilled by wider society; as well as ones role in a family and to friends. The actions played out by the individual within each narrative in the wider context are what give each character an identity which stands out.

Cunningham’s novel can be easily seen as a homage to Mrs Dalloway, there is no desire to disrupt of fracture the original in the slightest. He manages to hold onto the original’s essence through the use of Woolfian language which is poetic and modern all at once. He also manages to shift between different consciousnesses in the classic Woolfian manner .The three narrative strands of this novel do entwine seamlessly as they have been well thought out indeed, yet this modern equivalent, only makes one long to reread Woolf’s Mrs Dalloway as that innate need to return to the source always burns in one’s soul. Although this is a read that will capture the mind for a number of hours and even satisfy ones needs, one ought to read the true source, the one where the magic originated from as it is quite impossible not to compare the two. Cunningham would have known what he was setting himself up for- a comparison of course with a lot of creativity flung into the mix.

(published in Avrupa )

©Zehra Cranmer